As a grown up, it is always best to err on the side of caution when it
comes to acting out on impulsive feelings of rage when you don't have
both sides of the story and thus, don't know what the hell you're
talking about. Just ask my manager, Creamer. He could write a book on
the subject, having had to deal with me for the last 20 years. (That
would be quite entertaining, come to think of it. He should do that!).
But he's my manager. I'm supposed to treat him like a lesser
form of humanity or a lightening rod for everything bad that's ever
happened to me and deserves my wrath when my hotel room is on the 7th
floor when I SPECIFICALLY said I wanted the 9th and he needs to know
how bad he fucked up RIGHT NOW at 3am via this phone call and by the
way who's the jerk who scheduled the in-store at 11 in the fucking
morning??!! rental car.

And here's Hanley on the implications for the current health-care structure, which are more specific and painful than anything you'll hear coming out of the mouths of the teabaggers ranting in Arlen Spector's face:

I wrote about my own shitty health insurance experience here, but since
writing that essay, my daughter was diagnosed with petit mal seizures,
a condition which is not dangerous but one for which she will take
medication for a few years. Under our current for-profit health
insurance system she will not be able to obtain private insurance
because of this pre-existing condition. My son, who nearly died in infancy
of a respiratory virus, is in the same boat. Sorry, Mr. Hannity, Mr.
Levin and that other guy with the doughy face who's always hysterical
and weeping, personal responsibility does not apply here.

Kay Hanley, by the way, is back in town for a show at T.T. the Bear's Place on September 3.